If We Don't See Tomorrow
by C.R Blackheart
Summary: they said when there is no more room in hell the dead shall walk the earth... but is it possible find a new start at the end? based off The Walking Dead, this story shows the outbreak and its aftermath through a new characters eyes...
1. 8 DAYS AFTER

**8 DAYS AFTER**

Dead. There all dead. My mother, brother, everyone; I don't know what to do, I'm just _so_ lost. Our neighborhood was over run just 2 days ago, but it doesn't feel like it's been days, it feels like it's been months. It started out as a few crazy stories on the news, I think it started somewhere in Mexico; no maybe it was Maine, at least all I can remember was It began with an M; the constant panic and isolation has left my mind like a puzzle with disappearing pieces. You know the ones that you find a piece under the couch every now and again but always end up losing it again at some point? That's why I'm writing this, to replace what my mind can no longer hold. Anyway when the world first heard about this, no one believed it. Most thought it was a hoax, others thought it was a mistake. But then the stories continued, and soon cases began popping up all over the world. By day 3 _half_ of the world's population had been wiped out and the disease had reached every corner of the globe. By day 4 the hospitals became morgues and became too full of the dead to sustain the living. The world was in full panic, every safe haven the government promised became overrun with the dead; the undead as well. The Walkers, that's what we called them. But whether you called them corpses, Deadies, biters, or flesh eating bastards the thought was always the same. By day 5 the power went out, the government crumbled, the radio went out, and cities were destroyed beyond the recognizable. At night I could hear the sound of screams as rapid gun fire ripped through the night air, people's homes were raided and torched for supplies, but as the fires burned on, not _one_ siren was heard. That was the night my brother didn't come home… by day 6 my neighborhood was completely overrun. In a mad sprint to get out of the house and far away my mother was bitten. Her terror filled screams is what attracted the rest of our dead neighbors. It was Mrs. Lovell who bit her, the nice lady across the street who would make us a pie every Christmas. But Mrs. Lovell, the real Mrs. Lovell was gone. As her teeth sunk into my mother's neck I saw her eyes, they were no longer the warm hazelnut color they once were; they were black, lusterless, dead eyes. They were the eyes of someone who was no longer human. I tried to save my mother, but they tore her apart. So I ran, ran to the nearest house. The dead must have been too busy eating the last of my family to notice that I had ran into another house. Over the past few days only one or two walkers had wandered up too close to the house, but they soon left. I have played it cautious; I put up thick blankets to cover the windows and stayed desperately quiet, only moving when absolutely necessary. My food and water supply has run short, I plan to leave here in about a day or so. I haven't yet checked the garage but I think there might be a car still in there, if there is I plan to take it and drive as far away from here as I can.


	2. 9 DAYS AFTER

**9 DAYS AFTER**

Today is the day, I tell myself. I _need _to leave _today._ As I take a peak outside the window I am careful to make small, slow movements that the walkers won't notice. In my line of vision I can see about ten walkers, that isn't too bad if I get a car. I slowly let the curtain go then carefully get up from the spot I have been sitting in for 3 days now. I quickly stretch my aching legs and then head to the kitchen, where on the table lays the black backpack that I found in a closet upstairs. I walk over to the pantry where all that remains is 4 protein bars, 3 water bottles, and 2 cans of pumpkin pie filling; I put them all in the bag along with the extra shirt and pants I took from upstairs. The girl who once lived here wore a slightly larger size that me, but when the world has gone to shit you really don't give a fuck what you look like.

As I zip up the backpack, I scrape my hair up and out of my face, then tie it back with a rubber band I found in the house. When I finish retying my shoes, I sling the bag over my shoulder. But Before I go I check the kitchen for something I can defend myself with, after looking through a few cabinets and drawers I find a long butcher knife and stick that in my bag as well. It won't be enough to fight against the 10 or more outside, but it will be enough if I run into one or two walkers afterwards. That's _if_ all goes according to plan.

I head to the garage and open the door, inside is a tarp covered car and from what I can tell there are no flat tires, it's a good sign. I sit my backpack down on the garage floor and walk over to the mysterious car. I place my hands flat on the hood then grab a fistful of the tarp and pull. As I pull the tarp on the ground the car under it catches my breath. It's a black 73' dodge challenger. This was the kind of car my brother Jarrett and I always dreamed of having.

When my father left Jarrett took the role as man of the house. He was 4 years older then I and he didn't care if I was a girl or not. He taught me all he knew about cars, superheroes, and football. When I was 8 I never had interest in Barbie's or baby dolls, just my match box cars that Jarrett and I would collect and trade with each other. It was a hard time in my life when he went into middle school; there, playing with your kid sister wasn't cool and I was pushed away. When he went to high school it just got worse. I remember one day when Jarrett brought some of his friend's home, and as soon as he wasn't looking they stuck gum and peanut butter in my hair. That was the time I felt more alone in the world then I ever did.

Then a few years later at the senior party, after Jarrett's so called "friends" spiked his drink, stole his wallet, and left him on a street corner, I was the one person he called; and because I couldn't drive at the time, I came in the middle of the night, on the public bus and we rode back home together. After that he brought home an old white 66 Chevy impala from the junk yard as a thank you gift, we would use to work on it till one in the morning or until we feel asleep in the garage, or whichever came first. We were a family again, and then the outbreak happened. On day 4 after the outbreak Jarrett left for supplies, I had told him he shouldn't go alone, I told him that I would go with him; but he refused and made me promise to look after our mother. By day 5 we knew he was dead and by day 6 I had broken the last promise I made to him.

I put myself back into reality and realize the painful memories sent tears down my face. I quickly wipe them away and begin looking for the keys. I look at what appears to be a key hook where there are two sets of keys hanging. I look past the first two hooks and realize that there is a third hook labeled _challenger_, but no third key. I make one last look on the ground to see if it fell, but I don't see one and I am running out of time. It takes more time but I have no choice, I'm going to need to hotwire it. Before I leave I check the shelves for any useful supplies. In my sweep I find a flashlight, two different packs of batteries, a wire stripper, and a hatchet; all of which I stuff in my bag except the wire stripper. I pick up my bag and toss it on the passenger side of the challenger then begin working. I find the two red wires, strip them slightly using the wire stripper, and then twist them together. Everything I going well until I can't remember whether to use the blue or brown wire. I flip a mental coin and choose blue. I touch the blue wire against the reds and… **_ERRRRWWWRRRINGGGG ERRRRRWWRRINGGGG! _**

I SET THE DAMN CAR ALARM OFF! I curse under my breath as I quickly cut the blue wire silencing the alarm, I then reach back for the brown wire and touch it against the reds. There's a small spark as the ignition is achieved. I throw down the wire and quickly rev the engine so the challenger doesn't stall. I close the door and search the glove compartment. In there I find a good pair of sunglasses, a small handheld cd player, and the garage door opener. I take the garage door opener and take a deep breath as I press the button. The door slowly raises and I'm blinded by the only sunlight I've seen in days. As my vision adjusts, my heart sinks. Outside I see _a lot _more than ten walkers. The car alarm must have attracted the other 30, and every single one sees me. There's no turning back now. I rev my engine, shift the car into drive, then speed out of the garage so fast the car jumps a bit down the drive way. I plow through the line of walkers causing blood to rain on my windshield and distorting my view. As I drive I click on the wipers sending the thick red liquid to smear and fly of the glass. I then quickly assess the damage to the car and it looks like I only lost a left side mirror in the process. As I hit clear road my gaze wanders to the rear view mirror where I catch the last glimpse of my home, fading in the distance.


	3. 11 DAYS AFTER

AUTHORS NOTE: SORRY FOR THE SHORT CHAPTER TODAY... I PROMISE THERE WILL BE MORE BADASS MOMENTS ON THE WAY. :) -C.R BLACKHEART

**11 DAYS AFTER**

It's been two days. Two days of fucking nothing, except driving to look for supplies. I have decided that if the walkers don't kill me it will be the boredom. I even replaced the left side mirror on the challenger just to kill time. Before the outbreak I thought everyone was an asshole, now I'd do anything just to find another living person. I lay in the challenger staring up at the ceiling. The other day on a supply run I found a pair of small ear buds in which I plugged into the CD player, all I can say is after a while, even Pink Floyd loses its glory.

After listening to _wish you were here _for what seemed like the 700th time, the irony started to catch up to me. I take the ear buds out and sit up, I couldn't do this anymore. Hell, right now I'd take a few dozen walkers over sitting here. But why was I sitting there? That was the real question, why was I sitting around waiting? Waiting for what; a sign, a person, a fuck to give? What? I pull a map out of my bag and get out of the challenger, then spread the map out on the hood of the car. Before the radios went out a few safe havens where mentioned. I remember hearing about two of them in the area, and the military base was over run when I checked two days ago. So that just left the high school which was at least 50 miles from here. It was already getting late and traveling at night didn't seem like an option; and last time I checked I am in desperate need of gas. I trace my finger down a line on the map; it glides over red X's in which I had documented walker activity in the past two days. Amazing how much you can explore out of boredom. After I finished mapping a route I get back into the challenger and cover myself in blankets and supplies to keep from being seen, and as always I sleep with a knife for good measure. I know I won't fall asleep, I haven't slept in days. The sleep deprivation only makes things worse, if it wasn't for the constant paranoia, I would be dead. But the question was for how long could I keep this up?


	4. 12 DAYS AFTER

**12 DAYS AFTER**

As I drive the challenger down the road I pass by familiar buildings that are no longer recognizable. I even pass by the old demolished ice cream shop where I had my first date, sort of; I had caught the guy I was supposed to meet there locking lips with the blond waitress in the ally way, classy right? That was also the night his shiny new mustang was rewired, let's just say he didn't drive to school for more than a month. The memory still makes me laugh to this day.

As I near the gas station I notice at least 20 cars parked out front. You know, if you call the traffic jam of abandon cars "parked". I park the challenger in some trees where no one will notice it, then grab my hatchet and a gas can. I stride across the road and catch myself looking both ways before crossing; I guess old habits never die. My feet crunch under the dying grass as I make my way over to the pump, and I pass a few cars where dead bodies still lurk inside. My insides turn at the smell of the rotting flesh as I speed up my pace. I almost stop when I see a sign with the words **NO GAS** written on it. I let out a simple frustrated sigh; I was expecting this to happen but it still costs me more time.

I back track to the wave of cars and pop the hood off a ford f150, hopefully at least one of these cars will have some gas I can use. I locate the gas tank then loosen the clamp on the fuel line letting the liquid drain into my container. I get at least 3 gallons out of it when I'm done, if I go put it in the car now I can try some of the other cars to get more fuel. I'm about to do just that when I hear a slow heavy shuffle behind me, followed by a deep scratchy voice.

"Where yah goin' darling?" it says. I turn around to see a man with a knife in his hand. He wears a crooked yellowed smile with his searching bloodshot eyes. His clothes are dirty and stained with blood. As he takes a step towards me I sit the gas on a car's hood then grip my hatchet, I'm not going down without a fight. The man notices this and he starts to laugh. My grip tightens around the hatchet as I wish I had a gun. When the man's whiny laugh stops, I see movement out of the corner of my eye. He is not alone.

"I'm gonna ask again," he darkly states, "where ya goin?"

"None of your fucking business." I spit. Three men begin to emerge from behind cars and trees, they are all armed as well, and one even has a gun.

"Oh, we got a spicy one here fellas." The first one yells sending them all into slurred laughter. The men are obviously drunk, and I begin to question how one is still standing as he sways and stumbles. But even if they are drunk they are bigger than I and better armed. They have circled around me now trapping me, and the one with the gun is struggling to aim at me right. The first man shuffles up to me, so close that I can smell his sour liquor laced breath.

"I like spicy, ya know that?" he slurs. His hand reaches to touch my face but before he can touch me I knee him in the balls. When he drops to the ground I go for the man with the gun. I grab the gun by the side and wretch it out of his hands and send it flying across the lot, he then tries to grab me but I smack him with the end of my hatchet and He falls on the ground head first with a sickening crunch. Another guy charges at me with a knife but I swing my hatchet around and with a smack I know I've hit home. The last one sneaks up on me punching me in the jaw, I immediately taste the warm copper liquid as it fills my mouth. He goes to take another swing but I step out of the way. The man stubbles and falls to the ground and it is only until I notice the blood pooling under him that I realize he has fallen on his knife. I walk up to the first man who has just begun to gain conciseness. As his eyes scan around looking at his fallen mates I witness the rare moment where the predator becomes the prey. I don't feel anything for this man, he is not anymore human than the walkers are. He looks up at me with not fear or regret but amusement, and then taking his knife he drives it into the pit of his stomach. I jump at this reaction; this was not what I was expecting.

"Where all going to fucking die sometime girl," he breathes, "the only thing we have to hope for now is the right to choose how."

I'm not aware of how it happens, but the next thing I know he grabs the gun, aims it at me, and pulls the trigger. At first I am not aware that I've been shot, my head trails down and I see blood beginning to blossom on the right side of my stomach. I look back up at the man who has now gone limp. My head spins as a numb iciness takes over my body and I collapse on the ground unable to move. I can't feel any pain; in fact I can't feel anything. My vision soon blacks out as the icy numbness takes over my brain. _So this is the end_. I think. _No heaven or hell, just black. No afterlife, just silence. No eternity with those I've lost, just… alone._ Then I see the flashes of my life. My life with Jarrett, my first day of school, my first car, the outbreak, the last of Jarrett, the last of mom, the last of me, then I'm at the parking lot again; I hear the unearthly sounds of a walker then there's a gun shot, the soft thump of footsteps then come my way but I can't move. Now there's a voice.

"I got you." it says.

Then, I blackout.


	5. 1 MONTH AFTER

**1 MONTH AFTER**

At first its dark and silent, the empty hollow feeling almost tricks my mind into thinking I'm truly dead. Then, I hear it; a soft humming sound. I am unsure of what it is until I recognize it, the noise that was so normal before it almost went unnoticed. It's the soft hum of electricity.

I then start to slowly gain control over my body. I continue by carefully testing each of my limbs; I wiggle my fingers slightly as the feeling in my face returns. My eyes are heavy and feel like they have been glued shut but slowly, they do start to open. As the first of the bright light hits my eyes they snap shut once again pulling me back into the dark, I won't let that happen. I start to open my eyes again, a bit more forcefully this time around. When I have opened my eyes fully it takes a moment for them to focus again, I hear footsteps enter the room as a bright white ceiling comes into focus.

"Well look-it-here." A female voice remarks, "Sleeping beauty's finally awake." The voice has a warm deep tone that collides with a southern drawl and my curiosity grows more wondering the identity of the other person in the room. I begin to try to move my neck but a jolt of pain racks my whole body, I let out a small painful moan in response. My voice is dry and strains as it escapes my lips and it surprises me. A straw is then held up to my lips as the voice speaks again.

"Don't strain yourself dear, I'm sure it must be painful." It advises. I take the straw in my mouth and almost inhale the water. When I've had enough I push the straw out of my mouth to show the women I am done. When I go to lift my arms something stops me, they are restraints; that's when I begin to panic. What if I was taken by that gang? What If they were just waiting till I woke up to torture me, or worse? I try with all my strength to break the restraints, but they won't even come lose.

"Whoa there! Calm down! Your safe, we aren't going to hurt you!" the woman shouts as she pins me down. I don't know why but the reassurance in her voice causes me to stop. My breath is heavy and shaken as I settle myself down. The woman then begins to undo my restraints as my small adrenaline rush begins to fade away.

"Sorry about these Hun," she says, "we were just being cautious. I mean, can you blame us? Ian brings you in here, with these kinds of wounds and to be honest, for a while we weren't certain you would survive… We just couldn't take the chance that you would turn. We might be a bunch ah' worry warts, but we have a good thing going here, ya know?" As she undoes the last restraint I find my voice.

"I'm sorry, but where am I?" I ask. I finally turn my head to look at the woman. She sits in a rolling chair and looks more like a grandmother than anything else. Her dark hazelnut skin is slightly aged and fitted around her round structure, when I look up I notice her old worn eyes remind me of chocolate. She gives me a slight smile and turns to rummage in the cabinets.

"I've been advised to tell ya you're safe." She says as she pulls out a bottle of medicine, "all I can say," She continues, "is that you are at a safe haven."

"How long have I been out?" I ask.

"About 2 weeks," she says, "Ian brought ya here about 15 days ago, which reminds me, he'll be glad to hear your up." She remarks as she pulls out bandages and other strange bottles out of another cabinet.

"Sorry," I say, "but who is Ian? I just kind of woke up."

"Ian's the one who found you," she then smiles in amusement as she says, "the poor boys got an obsession, he's been here every day checking up on ya. You must be pretty special, you know him before all this?"

"Um no, I never knew anyone named Ian." I say.

She gives me a puzzling look as she says, "Well something about you has got that boy in a funk. You got a name?"

I nod and say, "Avalin"

"Well nice to meet ya Avalin, I'm mage. I'm the head healer here, in case you're wondering I'm not a doctor. I actually _know_ what I'm doing." She whispers that last part like a secret as she helps me to sit up. I gasp at the sharp pain I feel on my side as mage apologizes and tells me it's normal.

"We got to take out your stitches." She says. So it wasn't a dream, I was really shot. I look down and examine myself. I am no longer wearing my clothes I was wearing before; I now wear a white hospital gown. Some of the dirt has also been cleaned off of me as well; the only thing that is the same is my everlasting pony tail.

"Ok, now I know we just met and all," she says, " but I'm going' to need ya to' take off your dressing gown."

I hesitate for a second, and then slowly pull it off. Other than my underwear and bandages I am completely naked. I want to cross my arms but I know she will make me take them down anyway so I put them at my sides.

"What? If you think I've never seen a pair of boobs before, Honey then you is wrong." Mage says. She says it to make me feel better, but it's not what I'm self-conscious about. I know I was shot, but I do not know the full extent of the injury. I'm honestly scared of what I might find. Mage slowly unwraps the bandages and I see the wound. I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding as I see the wound; it isn't as bad as I thought.

"Lucky for you the gun didn't hit anything important, you will have a scar but it's a small price to pay for your life." Mage says as she sterilizes the wound. She puts the cloth down and begins to cut and pull out the black string in my skin. It hurts and feels strange, so I do I try to listen to mage to distract myself.

"When Ian found you a walker was trying to make a meal outta ya foot. Luckily Ian shot it before it bit you, your shoe however was not as lucky." She says.

"Shit, I liked those shoes…" I say and it makes her chuckle.

"Then Ian brought you here I guess, that boy ran all the way here while carrying you. He about passed out when he got here, it took _two_ strong men and a sedative to sit him down; he wanted to follow you into surgery. I've known that boy longer than I've known this hell of a world, and I can honestly say I've never seen him act that way towards _anyone_." She tells me as she finishes the stitches.

"It's strange that I've never met him before, do you think he might have mistaken me for someone else?" I ask her.

"Well," she starts, "we will just have to wait until you meet him."

And as if on cue a boy walks in the room. He is tall, dark haired, and his bright green eyes are wide. His face turns a deep shade of red as I remember I am topless. He stands there frozen as I quickly scan around for my hospital gown, in which is nowhere in sight. I uneasily smile as I cover my bare chest with my arms.

"Mr. Ian Porter! I do not think you should just _barge_ into places without knowing what ya going to find!" Mage says as she waves a threatening needle at him.

"Uh, ya sorry! I just heard she was awake." He says as he rubs the back of his neck in response to the discomfort. Now that I see him in person I know I've never seen him before.

"Well, I do believe you have seen more of her than you should, I advise you hustle it out and wait outside." She says. And without argument he shuffles out, closing the door behind him.

Mage wraps a thinner bandage around me as she says, "I think you are the only person that has made that boy so flustered."

"Likewise. That might have been the most uncomfortable moment in my life." I say.

" well I'm about to make it even more difficult," she says as she hands me my dressing gown, "Ian's going to take you to your room, I'd do it but I have my obligations here. And he was assigned your guardian anyway."

"Wait, my guardian?" I ask.

"Yes your guardian, assigned by our council. Anytime someone new comes to the haven we assign them someone to help them get started, or to monitor them to make sure they aren't a threat to our way of life here." She explains as I put on my hospital gown and tie it in the back.

"Now," mage says handing me a medicine bottle, " these are for the pain, only take one a day, If the pain continues or gets worse come see me." I take the bottle as I get up off the bed. I have a hard time walking at first but I get the hang of it.

Mage then hands to me one last bottle containing a thick red liquid, "for sleep." She says then opens the door.

Ian is waiting out there for me pacing. His blue eyes meet mine and he stops and stands up straighter. I wave mage goodbye and tell her thank you as we leave. As Ian and I walk down a dark corridor we don't say anything at first, but then he breaks the silence.

"My name is Ian by the way," he says.

"I know, mage told me about you. I'm Avalin." I say. He doesn't say anything only nods. We head up a set of stairs that leads up to yet another dark hallway.

"Why are the hallways so dark? You had electricity in the infirmary." I ask.

"We conserve what little energy we have, and everyone is sleeping anyway." He says.

"How many people are here?" I ask.

"About 80." He says, "This might be the safest place in the world right now. You see this compound is underground and there's only one way in and out."

"Easily defendable." I say in admiration.

"Exactly, but the outside is only as strong as the inside. We run a tight ship here; everyone has a job they need to do in order to keep this place running. You'll need to pick one at some point." He explains.

"Who says I'll be staying?" I ask.

"Where else would you want to be?" he asks.

"I don't know." I say out loud. We stop at a door with the number 103 ending the awkward conversation.

"Well this is it." Ian says.

"Thank you." I whisper, now aware of the people sleeping in the other rooms. I go to open the door when Ian says one last thing.

"If you decide to stay here find me tomorrow," his face then darkens as he continues, "and if you don't show I'll know the answer."

He then, in one fluid motion turns and disappears down the dark corridor. _I want to stay_ I think to myself, _but is safe? _ I decide that I can think about it later as I open the door and step inside the room. The room is lit with a few candles for light and the full sized bed is already made, I must have been expected. As I walk in I see a huge fire place and on each side two doors, I walk over to the first and open it, it's a large bathroom with a sink, bath tub, shower, and a _toilet._ No more shitting in a ditch. I close the bathroom and head over to the second door, I peer in to find out is a closet where a few clothes have been set in there for me; including an oversized tee shirt. I shuck of the hospital gown and pull on the shirt. I scan the room and finally realize where I am, I am at the hotel. Well more like under it, I remember coming here when I was really little, the hotel itself stood on a strange shaped hill in which opened up to the main door, the hotel then rose 5 stories over that but 3 floors sunk underground including the main lobby.

I walk over to my bed and as I sit on the edge I begin to feel pain in my side again. I take one of the pills mage gave me then wash it down with the sleeping substance. As I climb into bed and pull the covers up to my chest the drowsiness kicks in. as I slowly begin to fade I wonder it if I could ever really call this place home, I wonder why Ian looks at me the way he does, and I decide to stay even if for a little while to find out why. Then all at once my mind slips into unconsciousness.


	6. 1 MONTH AFTER (PART 2)

_SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG, BUT I PROMISE TO ADD MORE WALKERS AND STUFF SOON..._

_ - C.R BLACKHEART_

**1 MONTH AFTER**

When I wake up I almost forget that I'm not running for my life at the moment. When I open my eyes the room is still dark, more likely the side effect of being underground. As I stretch out my body I yawn, I'm still very tired but I can't go back to sleep. I look on my bed and notice I have kicked off almost all of my blankets, _almost_ all. I am still covered up in a warm fleece blanket in which I am sure, wasn't there when I fell asleep.

I stop thinking about the blanket and get out of bed, the carpet under my feet feels nice after so long of not having one. I shuffle over to the bathroom and open the door. I turn on the light and walk over to the sink. On the mirror is a note that, like the blanket, wasn't there last night; and it says:

**_Shower doesn't have hot water yet. But the bath does…._**

The note doesn't say who it's from and it puzzles me. I put the note down and turn on the bath water after about a minute steaming hot water pours out of the faucet. As the bath tub fills up I pull the big tee shirt up and over my head and toss it in a corner, I stand naked in the mirror and I slowly pull off my overnight bandages, I examine the scar and a weight is put on my chest. From the scar I can tell that it was not a clean shot, and a big red line runs through it, that must have been from the surgery. Before I could feel anymore self-conscious about myself I turn away from the mirror and get into the tub. I slowly sink in letting my body remember the feeling of hot water, and then I duck my head under. For what feels like the first time in a long time all my mussels relax, my head is clear, and I feel safe. _Don't get to comfortable_ I remind myself, _nowhere is safe, only safer…_

When I can't hold my breath any longer I resurface and begin a plan of attack on my hair. I find a small toothed comb and hack away the knots until my hair is smooth, then toss the comb to the side and scrub my hair and body with the soap. I rinse the remaining soap off my body, and when I'm sure that I am clean I pull the plug. I get out of the tub and quickly wrap a towel around my bare body, watching the water drain from the tub. I exit the bathroom to the closet and shuffle through the clothes. In my search I find underwear (hopefully unused… but one can't be too picky.), my bra, a pair of jeans, lace up boots, and a black tank top. I take them all and head back to the bathroom sitting them on the counter and closing the door behind me. I scrape up my wet hair into a ponytail then decide it is safe to look in the mirror. The dirt has been washed off leaving me with half the tan I thought I had, my cheeks are still a bit pink from the sun but not bad, I'm still short and there's really no changing that, but over all I look healthy and I I'm happy with that.

I step away from the mirror and begin to change; I am only still in my bra and underwear when I hear the door of my room open then a few shuffled footsteps. My mind races, what if it's a walker? My heart pounding out of its chest, I grab for a sharp pair of scissors on the counter and slowly make my way up to the bathroom door. Whoever or whatever has entered my room is now on the other side of the bathroom door. If I'm quick I can jam the scissors up in their eye no problem. I take a slow deep breath and silently count to three. 1…. In… 2…. Out…. 3…. Now! I throw open the door ready to kill…

"OH FUCK!" a voice yells in surprise. I immediately stop what I'm doing and look up at the face, it's Ian.

"WHAT THE HELL! I almost killed you!" I yell. He looks shocked.

"Sorry, didn't realize the half-naked slayer was behind the door!" He exclaims. I'm about to make a witty remark back when I realize once again I am standing before Ian in my underwear.

"We really should stop meeting like this…" I sigh. I am in no rush to cover myself like the last time, it's almost pointless now. But I still walk over and pick up my tank top.

"I don't mind it…" Ian smirks. Realizing what he has said, I raise an eyebrow at him as I pull the shirt over my head.

"Mr. Porter," I say, remembering his name from the night before, "are you flirting with me?"

His cheeks turn a slight shade darker as he says "no. not at all." He says it with such confidence that most could take it as an honest answer, but I'm not stupid.

"Why were you lurking outside my bathroom door?" I ask as I finish lacing up my boots.

"I just needed to see if you were still here." He answers.

"Why wouldn't I be?" I ask leaning against the counter.

"Your answer _was_ a bit _unclear_ last night." He remarks.

"So you barge in here on me half naked…" I say, "by the way what's with you and that?"

"What can I say?" he says with a cocky grin, "most girls would _kill _for me to burst in there room and sweep them off their feet."

"I _will_ stab you with these scissors." I say as Ian puts his hands up in defense, and lets me out of the bathroom.

"So," I say as we walk out of my room, "what's on the agenda today?" Ian says nothing, just gives a slight half smile and keeps walking. We walk to the end of the hall and down a flight of stairs in which brings us to what used to be the main lobby. The furniture and space carpets have been removed and replaced by what looks like a small training camp. Ropes are hung from balconies, various types of furniture stacked in random areas to create small walls. At the moment some young boys are in the process of climbing the far right wall, sweat beads down there face as if they have been doing this for a while, but despite the look of exhaustion they still smile when they have reached their goal.

As the boys run off to finish their next task, Ian and I walk into another hallway, we reach a set of double doors which lead to the kitchen, but when we reach them Ian stops. He puts his finger over his lips then before I can protest, he slips inside. I wait outside the doors for about two minutes when Ian quickly slips back out again.

"What the hell-"I am immediately silenced when Ian holds out to me a muffin and some juice. I had almost forgotten how hungry I was up until now.

"Thank you" I whisper, "but why the sneaking around?"

"You technically missed breakfast," he says, "mage doesn't like it when someone takes food."

"Oh," I say, "I'm sorry"

"It's ok, I would have gotten you some at breakfast but mage saw me taking some and she wacked my hand with a wooden spoon." He says, rubbing his hand at the memory. I chuckle at the thought as I finish my muffin and juice.

"So where to next?" I ask. And with that small little smirk he takes my hand and pulls me down the hall.


End file.
